


Episode 7

by GelfofOak



Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:22:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GelfofOak/pseuds/GelfofOak
Summary: Fleabag and the Priest find themselves meeting in a familiar location.I have to begin by saying the ending of Fleabag is absolute PERFECTION and the series is a masterpiece. I had such a hard time saying goodbye to these characters that I had to indulge myself in spending a little bit more time with them through writing. This is my first time writing something in a very long time. It's a little heavy on the feelings talk, probably reflecting how I felt after I finished the show. There are some callbacks to places visited and phrases from the show. I'll probably write something longer broken down into proper chapters in the future, but just wanted to share this for the time being.Thanks everyone! Stay safe!
Relationships: Fleabag/Priest (Fleabag)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 69





	Episode 7

She sipped on her second glass of red wine as she sat alone in the garden of her father’s (and now stepmother’s) house on a gray and wet afternoon. The air was on the border of breaking into a drizzle, but it didn’t bother her. This was the first time she was in the garden since their wedding, since the last day she saw _him_ , since she was ever to see him again. She didn’t care that the cold and wet seemed to bite through to her bones, the knit jumper and down coat offering seemingly no protection other than decorative effect. It was the first time she felt close to him since that day in the same spot 5 months ago. A surge of feelings welled up inside her: an exquisite mixture of love, anguish, yearning, lusting, sadness, and despair. Feelings that she thought had evaporated in the last almost half year, but that were now very much still present and very much the same strength they had been in that very spot the last time she saw him. While the request he had beseeched of her was only never to come to his church, she had self-imposed a limitation of not even entering the neighborhood of the church, so this moment to experience a spot, any spot, where they had been together, she relished. And the gray weather seemed to make spectres of that day of the wedding, of people, of thoughts, of feelings, materialize out of the mist.

She started suddenly on the bench where she was seated at the feel of someone’s hand on her shoulder. “Off we go to the dining room, darling.” While her usual exchanges with her father hadn’t changed much, there seemed to be a closeness underlying them that had developed ever since the wedding. She gave a warm smile internally to feel this newfangled embrace by her family. It softened the blow of _his_ gaping absence. She looked up at her father, smiled at him reassuringly, took his hand, and walked into the house with him. Smells of roast chicken and the faint scent of something buttery and freshly baked filled the air. She took her seat at the dining room table opposite Claire and Klare, and saw that her champagne glass was already full, waiting for her to join in the revelry.

“To Claire and Klare!” announced her stepmother gleefully, holding up her full glass. “And may this marriage meet with a more fortunate end!” Her sister shot her a look of horror at hearing the start of what was likely going to be a speech about her previous marriage. “Well I think at least he’s a most attractive partner, one to help you have children of your own, rather than any stepchildren!”

It was her father’s turn to shoot a look, and he began to say to his wife, “I think, uh…”

She cut him off quickly, adding, “Well, it’s just with stepchildren, it’s sometimes hard to get to know them, isn’t it? It’s just so much more enriching to raise them from a young age, and the sexual thrills that come with trying for a baby, well that’s lovely!” Klare involuntarily started to angle his body away from the stepmother, but her grip on his forearm as she spoke was quite firm and limited his escape options.

_Awkward family dinners_ , she groaned internally. She couldn’t help suppressing a small smile, however, because the ever-awkward family dinners had never seemed quite as insufferable ever since she’d met _him_ at one of these very dinners. At that restaurant, even though she had not yet known who he was, she had felt an instant connection and comfort in being able to exchange alarmed or amused looks with him throughout the dinner when nobody else seemed to recognize the shock of a comment just made or an uncomfortable situation. It was like they understood each other instantly without having said a word. She longed for an outlet like that, and wished he were here now. Come to think of it, all of her experiences the last 5 months had just felt like a mere echo of life without him to share them with. She and Claire definitely seemed to have a connection, but her sister was often pulled deep into trying to appease their stepmother or others present and couldn’t be available for nonverbal commentary. She, on the other hand, had given up on that long ago. Her stepmother knew that too, at least.

Despite the uncomfortable opening to the dinner, the remainder of the dinner passed smoothly as the focus shifted onto the food and drink. Her stepmother was actually a very dedicated and talented cook (though she hated to admit it), probably from extension of some of her artistic skill. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed the food, and everyone was in high spirits as they said their goodbyes by the door. She followed closely behind Claire and Klare, smiling to herself as they lost themselves in a private conversation of murmurs and chuckles. Although the events of the wedding hadn’t brought about the happy ending she had yearned for between her and the Priest, she was certain that it was the words in the his speech that had been the deciding point in Claire chasing after love, of finally putting something other than reason and pragmatism first, and finding unbridled happiness. Just another reminder of him, and the fact that he very much has the capacity for romantic love. _Oh no, here it goes again_. She had to do a slight head shake to help her mind find another train of thought, far from her previous one to focus on. Fortunately, they were a few feet away from Claire’s car, and Claire and Klare seemed to have emerged from their lovers’ reverie, and Klare asked her, “So, what do you think of Claire’s new car?”

“Oh, it’s lovely!” She replied, still somewhat distracted. “I’m looking forward to having far fewer bus rides. Although I will miss the stares of some of the blokes on this route late at night, like they’re waiting for me to fall asleep so they can smell my hair or do something odd.”

“Well, if it would, help, I could do that!” offered Klare, jokingly.

They climbed into their seats and from the rearview mirror she saw Claire shoot a disapproving but adoring glance at Klare after that comment. They pulled away from the house and turned onto the main road. They rounded the corner, and the bus stop came into view. _That_ bus stop. Her eyes lingered on it longer than she had intended them to, and when she looked up, she saw Claire’s eyes studying her in the rearview mirror, heavy with concern. She had never told Claire everything that had happened at that bus stop, but Claire had heard enough to know that that’s where it had ended, and something there had caused her sister to burst into a cascade of tears off and on for several weeks. As they passed by the stop, she detected a slight movement in the bushes, and saw the flick of a bushy orange and white tail as the creature it belonged to wriggled under the shrub. It was like the fox had never left the bus stop, holding a vigil until her priest returned to reclaim the love he had left hanging in the night air.

Sooner than she had realized, they were pulling up to the kerb in front of her flat. She leaned forward from the backseat so she could embrace Claire and Klare at once in a hug and kiss, and said goodbye.

She entered her flat, set her things down, and sat on her sofa. She checked her phone for the time. Almost 9:00 PM. She changed into her pyjamas and sat back down. She wasn’t feeling very tired yet, and decided she would look for something on TV to watch to get her mind off of where (or to whom, more like) her thoughts usually wandered. Before turning on the TV, she started to look through her phone absentmindedly. She found herself scrolling through her contact list, and her gaze arrested on _his_ name. Sometimes she did this. She just liked to look at his name in her phone. Like a reminder he still existed on this planet, even though she had not seen him since the bus stop. She hadn’t even had his number when they were together-it had actually never even occurred to them to exchange numbers; it seemed like they were connected on a higher level than that and to do something that mundane would almost seem to lessen what they had. They somehow always just seemed to find each other. But, after one particularly long and agonizing crying and “processing things” session (as Claire began to call them) a few months prior, Claire showed up bright and early the following morning with pastries and coffee at her flat, and with a meaningful look handed her a folded-up piece of paper. “Please save this. You’ll need it. Okay, got to pop off to the office for a big meeting. See you later, love you.” She gave her a peck on the cheek and hurried off. She gave a puzzled look after her sister, then looked down and unfolded the paper. Her eyes widened upon seeing the words in Claire’s handwriting that read “Love of your fucking life” and a phone number. Evidently, from their conversation the previous night, Claire felt that things could change. “He still loves you,” she had insisted, “but he is doing what he feels is right. Maybe it won’t feel right for forever.” _Dammit,_ she thought to herself, _I’ve made Claire an optimist._ After she had left, she ever so carefully put his name and number in her phone. 50% of the time whenever she manually added a number, she accidentally called the person from fumbling around with the touch screen, and was very aware of how mortified she would be if she accidentally called him. It wouldn’t be viewed so much as desperate as a lack of respect for his choice and sense of duty, she felt. And she would hate to be seen like that.

Now, as she sat on her sofa staring at his name, she turned on the TV, sent her phone to the home screen, and locked it. The usual routine. She wondered whether on that same day Claire had come to give her his number, she had gone to do the same to him with her number. She knew Claire hadn’t been to that church ever since she and Martin split since that had been the church he and Jake had attended even before they had met. But Claire was so optimistic these days…

She flipped through the channels on the telly. Since it was the end of November, there were already a host of holiday-themed commercials and movies peppering the selections. _Nah, she thought, I’m not ready to get burnt out on that yet..._ She continued flipping, then heard a familiar tune … “Brown paper packages tied up with strings.” _Oh, Sound of Music! I could use a cheery musical right now_. She settled into her throw blanket and let the melodies and antics that could only ever happen in a musical wash over her. As the movie went on, and Maria began to realize she was in love with the Captain, she sat up and said, “Holy shit!” then looked around, embarrassed, after realizing she’d said it out loud. _How did I not realize before that my situation was like Sound of Music, only with the genders reversed_! She chuckled a little to herself because of course that wasn’t true, the situation was very different, but a little funny nonetheless. She continued to watch with this new perspective, and when Maria runs from the house because she realizes she’s falling in love with the captain and has to return to her calling in the Catholic church, she thought to herself, _well, at least it’s not at a bus stop in the dead of night with a fox in pursuit. This is cathartic, really!_

There was a commercial break ( _probably where intermission was based on my parents’ VHS copy from when I was a child,_ she thought), and she got up and poured herself a shot of amaretto over ice. _Fuck it, let’s just embrace being alone watching a musical._ As the movie went on, it showed Maria back at the Abbey. She idly wondered if the Priest had ever seen this movie, or had thought about it at any point during their brief romance or when he decided to leave her for the church. During the scene at the abbey, Mother Superior counsels Maria, “Maria, just because you love this man doesn’t mean you love God any less.” Hard cut to Maria running back to the house. “That’s bollocks!” Again, she couldn’t help from saying it out loud. She turned off the TV and decided to wait until they start their escape from Austria. After all that love stuff was over. She felt like she had to get up, and started tidying up the living room. Her thoughts began racing. She felt so silly to get all worked up after seeing a musical, but she couldn’t keep the sentiments from the line about loving a person not meaning you love God any less from repeating in her head. This was in direct opposition to the Priest, who had specifically seen it as a dichotomous choice, and had chosen God over her. _But for him, it wasn’t about not enough room for love, was it?_ _Yes, he had spoken about where to put your love, but I think he would have been okay loving both of us_. It’s more about like he had said at dinner that first night, that the church and God had given him peace, a peace that he clearly needed from whatever his life had been before. So, even if he had his very own Mother Superior equivalent ( _what would that even be? A bishop?_ She didn’t know) tell him that very thing, that wouldn’t send him back running to her. That would be a reductive view of his feelings. She knew he loved both and that wasn’t the issue. The issue is that the walls he’d built with his new life would come crashing down. She understood that choice and felt she understood him. That’s what made it all so painful. She had searched for peace in her life, and it made sense to rest when you found that peace.

Well, if he was able to torment her that easily through the medium of a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, there was one solution. She needed to talk to him, she resolved. The conversation at the bus stop clearly hadn’t provided her the closure she needed if she was this easily set off. First it was the garden, then just general family awkwardness, then the bus stop, then a bloody musical. And only in one day. She needed to talk. She didn’t have to go to his church. She would allow him that space; that’s where he thrived in this new life. She wanted to know more about what _would_ happen if he didn’t have the structure of the church. What _was_ his past life? _Why_ would his life be fucked if he chose her? He had always been asking her probing, personal questions getting at her to deconstruct her past painful experiences, why couldn’t she do the same to him? _Maybe he should confess to me this time,_ she thought. If her heart had to be shattered, she at least wanted to know why. There was a reason they were so drawn to one another, maybe it was that they needed to digest their rocky pasts that seemed to parallel each other’s together. She felt that the process had already begun for both of them, but they had never gotten the chance to finish it, and that was also why it was all so painful. She didn’t even care that the outcome might not be that they would fall more in love-maybe they could at least become friends and that would help them get over this. She jumped up and grabbed her coat without thinking why. She looked down at her phone and saw, disappointedly, 10:35 PM. _Damn._ He’d probably (definitely) be sleeping _. Probably has an early mass to give in the morning. Probably has more emotional control and better things to do than stay up late dwelling over me_ , she thought sadly with a hint of self-reprimand.

As an alternative, she grabbed her phone. She’d send a text. He’d probably not even see it until morning, and that’s a respectful way to contact someone, right? Allow them to respond on their own time, if at all? _Yeah, that’s what I’ll do_. She opened up the texting app, and found his name. She began typing: “Hey, I hope you’ve been doing well!” _Oh God, no, that’s crap, re-do_. How do you even write a text for this situation? “Hey, it’s me, the person you fell in love with despite your best efforts not to, then left for returning to the church?” She then re-typed, “Hey. I don’t mean to bother you or intrude, but wanted to ask you whether we could talk on the phone some time? I just have some questions on my mind I was hoping to talk over. It’s not urgent.” She hit send.

_Oh shit,_ she thought. _I didn’t even say who it was_. She then got in bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling nervously. _Well, I won’t be falling asleep any time soon_ , she thought wryly as her thoughts raced. Just 5 minutes later, her phone started to buzz. She rolled over to pick it up and her insides did a flip when she saw his name.

She answered and said “hello?” trying to sound groggy and somewhat clueless. _Stupid of me, he knows I wasn’t sleeping since I just sent him a text 5 minutes ago._

“Hey, Fleabag,” he said, gently. Her heart was about to pound out of her chest. He had known it was her, and she was flooded with emotions as he used the nickname he had begun to call her endearingly after she had revealed jokingly that she was a terrible person for believing that existence was meaningless. She hadn’t heard that name in 5 months.

“Hey! Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to …”

“No, it’s okay.” He did one of his patient chuckles he does when he finds her irresistibly amusing.

_Fucking hell,_ she thought, _did he always sound this unbelievably hot?_

“Let me guess”, he continued, “you were just watching Sound of Music.”

She started laughing nervously. _Fuck, he always seems to know what I’m thinking._ She became somewhat saddened at this reflection. “Yeah, I was, were you??”

“If you are asking was I watching the musical adaptation of you and me, then yes, I was.”

She laughed with pleasant surprise along with him. “Okay, I didn’t know if I was mad for thinking that, so thank you!”

“You are mad, but not for that,” he joked, continuing to chuckle.

She reflected on how it felt like no time had passed at all.

He continued, “No, that movie actually popped into my head the night I got home after the bus stop. About the only thought I had that night at home that didn’t involve me calling myself a cold-hearted fucking idiot.” His tone had changed to more serious. Silence followed on the other line.

After a pause, she tried to continue with the previous playful line of conversation, “Well, if they made a musical about us, who would you want to play you?”

“Well, I think they got it right on with that movie, I’d want Julie Andrews!” he joked.

She laughed with him, “Yeah that’d be great casting.”

“So, you watched Sound of Music and wanted to ask me some questions, did you?” he asked, still lightheartedly. “Thinking of becoming a Catholic nun and wanted my advice?”

“Well, got to do what I can to get invited back into your church!” She joked. “Would that work?”

“Maybe. You’ve got to prove yourself. There’s a whole initiation, then did I mention the fight club?”

She laughed, “Well, you’ve seen I can hold my own in a fist fight.”

“Yes, there you go! You’re already on your way.”

They laughed longer, then silence.

He started, “Really though, what did you want to talk about?”

_That I’ve missed you. That just hearing your voice makes me feel more whole than I’ve felt in 5 months, or ever._ “Oh, again I didn’t mean for you to call now, I just…”

“Do you want to meet somewhere?” he blurted.

“What? Now?”

“You said you had some questions, and it sounds like it might be a lot over the phone and weighing on your mind, so maybe it would be easier in person.”

“You said never to come to your church…”

“Not in the church, somewhere else. Do you remember that Quaker meeting hall?”

“Yeah”. She wished she didn’t remember it so well.

“Let’s meet there in 20 minutes,” he said.

“Okay, see you in 20 minutes,” she said.

“Okay, see you soon. Bye.”

“Bye.”

She hurriedly stripped off her pyjamas, jumped into her most flattering pair of jeans that were clean, pulled on a jumper, ran to the entryway, put on a coat, and quickly called a taxi. When the taxi pulled up, she grabbed her keys and phone and ran out the door.

15 minutes later, the taxi was dropping her off in front of the Quaker meeting building. As she was climbing out, she saw him walking toward her from a few buildings down. His face slowly erupted into a hesitant grin as he saw her, and she smiled back. He smiled more fully. She continued to smile as he approached her. _Did he always look this irresistible?_ He was dressed plainly in jeans and a zip-up hoodie, but something about the way he looked at her and smiled made it feel like it was just for her and no one else, and it absolutely made her melt.

“Hi” he said, when they were face-to-face.

“Hi, it’s good to see you!” She said mechanically and cheerfully, like she would say to any acquaintance she was running into on the street whom she hadn’t seen for a while. She felt a million emotions trying to beat out of her chest that she was trying to do her best to suppress. She worried for a second that he would be able to detect just how fast her heart was racing. There was a silence and they both awkwardly leaned forward a few times, until she decided to go for it. She leaned in and gave him a quick hug as a greeting. She didn’t want him to be the one to have to do it. She wanted to take the burden off of him.

“It’s good to see you, too” he said. For a moment, in her nervousness she had forgotten she had even said this just before.

She smiled back. She had caught his scent briefly during their hug, and her brain was still under its intoxicating effects, rendering her temporarily silent.

“So, want to come inside?” he asked.

“Inside the Quaker meeting hall?” she recovered, playfully.

“Yes, unless you’d like to have a chat on the street in the balmy November night air?” he rejoindered, equally as playfully.

“How are we going to get in?”

“Oh, I have the keycode to unlock the door. The pastor and I know each other.”

“Oh, is there just a secret network of all the religious leaders in the city?”

“Actually kind of, yeah,” he laughed

“Oh and with an underground lair and secret names and your own series of movies?”

“Yeah, did you think my robes were just for the mass services?”

“Well, now I’ve got to become a nun to become part of this.”

They entered the building together, chuckling. Once they entered the empty meeting hall, they chose two seats side by side and sat down. She noticed the Priest had been carrying a small backpack. He rummaged through it, and produced two cans of G & T. She couldn’t help laughing as she accepted a can from him.

“Thought it might help” he said. “Well, you know, if the spirit of the meeting doesn’t move you to speak.”

“Careful, I might talk about other body parts this time!” she quipped.

“Well, you can count on me to listen again. I’m used to it,” he chuckled.

They both opened their cans, took a sip, and stared forward in silence.

She hadn’t really planned on what she was going to say first, nor planned to say anything in that moment, but found herself beginning. _Wow, maybe there is something about this space that moves me to speak._ “Look, I want you to know, that when we were together, my intention was never to seduce you away from your life with the church. I respected and understood your choice, especially to find peace. I know the importance of that more than anyone,” she added quietly, as much to him as to herself.

His face as he surveyed her was serious, somewhat pained, like it had been that night at the bus stop. “I know. I know you, and know you wouldn’t do that. It was something bigger.”

“Yes, it’s just that I loved you so much, so strongly, that I wanted to chase after it since it felt so big and right, and important…You made me feel…” Tears began to form, and she had to stop. She was scared to enter the love territory, scared to be second choice again. 

He looked at her. He desperately wanted to grab her hand, to touch her somehow, but not right now. It was too soon. They had gone months without seeing each other. Instead, he settled on “It was me, too. I didn’t want to make you feel like you were pulling me away from something. I know I made it hard for both of us. I’m okay with my hurt, I’m used to it, but I hate that you have to have it, too.”

She nodded through tears.

There was a pause as they looked at each other. She turned away, took a quick sniffle, then turned back toward him, unconsciously signaling a changed tone, “What if you had met me before your life as a priest? Would I have been one of your ‘many times’?”

“Oh, without batting an eye!” he replied, a little too enthusiastically.

She laughed at his quick reply, and he looked slightly embarrassed but laughed with her.

“You would have been different though, different from the others.” He continued. “Why do you think we even made it as far as we did when I was a priest, I absolutely l-.” He stopped himself. “You might not have liked me as much before I was a priest,” he said more quietly.

“You’re right, I really just have a sexy robes fetish.”

They both laughed.

“Why do you say that?” She probed.

“Well,” he looked up at her and laughed nervously. “I know this might come as a shock, but I had a _bit_ of a drinking problem back then,” he said, as he held up his can of G & T for emphasis.

“And?” she encouraged.

He looked at her, laughing, clearly thinking of their time in the confessional booth. Seemed like eons ago.

She picked up on him catching himself, and replied, “Don’t worry, I won’t try to snog you at the end of this!”

He continued, “And, with that drinking, there were some fights, and some ill-advised relationships.”

“Then I definitely would have still slept with you,” she laughed. “I’ve also had some very questionable sexual encount…”

He cut her off. “I know. I think that’s one of the things we understood about each other. Our pasts.”

“Do you still feel bad about your past?” She asked.

He paused for a moment to reflect. “No, not really. I truly feel that I am in a new life, and all of those events are set aside as something separate, a part of an old life left behind. The only thing I feel bad about now is what I did to you. It wasn’t fair.”

She started tearing up again. “It’s okay. I understand. Like you said you know me, I know you, and you wouldn’t do it intentionally to hurt me.”

He nodded. “And when I said it would pass, that was probably as much for me as it was for you. To try to convince myself that what I was doing was right.”

His right arm shifted imperceptibly toward her a few inches, then he caught himself, and pretended to need to itch his forearm, and moved it back to his lap. There was a pause.

“Hey, I’ve noticed, you haven’t gone away somewhere tonight,” he said.

Shocked, she replied, “No, I suppose I haven’t.” She hadn’t thought about this being something she used to do in months.

“Why not?” he asked.

She paused and looked away, thinking, then looked directly at him, “Because I don’t need to.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

They remained in silence for a few moments, then she looked at him again “Can I tell you something?” she asked.

He looked at her, searching.

“I want to help you,” she said.

“Okay,” he replied, looking at her with patient curiosity.

“What I’m trying to ask is, what if I can help you? Like the church can?” she asked.

He looked at her inquisitively.

She continued, “So, you know how we’ve both had some things we’re not proud of in our past?”

“Yes—"

“Well, I’d like to share more about my past, just if it will help you. And I know in the very least it will help you feel like you know me more completely. What I’m about to share is painful and one of the reasons I felt so closed off sometimes. But I’m ready to talk now. I don’t need to go anywhere.”

“Okay”

“So, you know the guinea pig café?

“Yes.”

“So I said I started it with my friend.”

“Yes.”

“That friend died.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay.” Her voice started to break and she had to punctuate her story with deep breaths. “She died a while ago. Her name was Boo. It was on accident. She was just trying to get a small injury by getting hit by a bicycle after she found out her boyfriend had slept with someone else so that he would feel bad and have to visit her in the hospital. But when a bicycle did hit her, it pushed her into the street, and she was hit by a car.” She was trying to fight her sobs as they inched their way out of her between sentences. “And the person her boyfriend had slept with was me.” Her sobs now flowed freely, periodically interrupted with gasps for air. “And it’s my fault she’s…”

He stared at her with an expression brimming with peace and understanding. Without hesitation, he engulfed her in an embrace with both arms, drew her head into his chest, and kissed her head. He murmured, “It’s okay. She forgives you. I forgive you. And God forgives you. The only one left to forgive you is you.”

She started to nod and continued to cry into his chest. They remained like that for a few minutes, him comforting her in stillness as the grief washed through her and slowly ebbed away. She sat up, nodded again, and wiped away her tears. “Thank you,” she said. “The only other person I’ve ever told this to is my sister, and that was when we weren’t really... I know you’re right about forgiveness, but it takes longer to feel it than to know it. I just wanted to share that with you because I have, like, the ultimate example of sex not bringing anything good…Just in case it helps you with your past, not that you need it, maybe. Maybe _I_ should’ve become a priest…” She smiled a little.

“It does help. Somehow I knew there was something…after our time in the confessional. And the fact that I instantly tried to get myself as close to you as physically possible in the confessional should have clued you in to how I felt about you after you bared your past imperfections.” He playfully gave her shoulder a gentle nudge with his shoulder.

She laughed, “Yes, that should have clued me in, I suppose.”

“Is that when you knew you loved me?” she asked.

“Oh, now we’re back to the musical script are we?” he asked with a quiet grin.

“Shall I break out in song?” she asked, returning his grin.

“I knew before then,” he said

“Go on,” she said.

“I’m still in confession?” he asked

“Kind of! I will listen in complete confidence, and only with a spot of judgment.”

“It might sound ridiculous,” he laughed.

She smiled at him in encouragement.

“Okay,” he continued. “I knew at the restaurant. I know, it’s crazy. Falling in love on a whim was in my past life. But this wasn’t on a whim, this was something else. There was this hilarious, real, confident person sitting next to me, talking to me, with this controlled chaos bubbling under the surface that I just wanted to know more about, know more about all those raw and genuine emotions brewing around.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Then I made your life a chaotic mess.”

“I wouldn’t trade any of it.”

“I knew I loved you when you spilt that tea everywhere and swore.”

He laughed. “I really just wanted an excuse to drink G & T’s instead.”

“Well, at least it has all passed now,” she stated plainly.

He looked at her sadly. “Yeah,” he replied.

They both took a sip of their G & T cans, now almost empty.

She took a deep breath. Now was the time for the big question. “What would’ve happened if you’d stayed with me and left the church?”

He took a deep breath, “Well, I’d have to tell a lot of people in the church. Then find a new job. Maybe in the church. Maybe something different.”

“Okay, so those are the practical matters. But what would happen _to you?”_

“Uhh I don’t know, that’s the part I don’t know” He put his face in his hands for a moment then looked up. “In all my relationships in the past, I was an emotional, unreliable arsehole, and I’d worry I’d do the same to you. Especially without some bigger picture to be a part of.”

“You wouldn’t though, I don’t think.”

“Why?”

“Because, what if I’m your peace? Rather than the one who gets in the way of it?”

He paused for a moment, thoughtful. “I know that I did feel so peaceful that night at your flat when we…when I stayed. I’ve never quite felt that way. I didn’t know how to say it at the time since I just wanted to live it in that moment.”

“So did I.” she said

“Oh, but you’ve been able to have plenty of more ‘peaceful times’ with other people since I was there. I haven’t felt any sort of peace like that since.”

She was caught off guard.

He looked a little embarrassed, aware he’d come off like he’d been probing. “Sorry, you don’t have to…”

At the same time, she started, “Well, if by other people, you mean only with myself, then yes.”

It was becoming quite late, and they both felt the disinhibition that comes with staying up to the early hours of the morning. The effects of the G & T and their candid conversation topics were also making her feel quite liberated. “Erm,” she started, turning slightly red, “I didn’t have any photos of you, so I may have found a PDF online of one of the church’s weekly newsletters with your photo in it, and may have had a wank to it. Or several wanks… It’s saved on my computer.”

He quickly stood up and walked away from her down the row.

_Fuck_ , she thought.

He quickly turned back and strode toward her and sat down. “Sorry, that’s just the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. And fucking flattering.” His face was glowing slightly pink.

“I’ve missed you too,” he then added, with the implication he may have had similar thoughts. “When your sister came to the church a few months ago and gave me your number, I thought about calling you so many times, but I didn’t want to hurt you any more than I already had,” he said, sadness behind his eyes. “I was hoping you’d come to the church.”

“You said...”

“I know. It was easier to give a rule to you than to give one to myself. I think you’re stronger than me. Sometimes, I just need proof that what happened with us did happen. I’ve stopped at the bus stop when I’m out that way visiting parishioners just to be transported back to us. It was a period of such happiness that it seems like it wasn’t real, like a dream.”

“I know.” A pause followed. “Speaking of Claire, she is engaged! To her business partner.”

“Oh, wow!”

“That’s where she went. After the wedding. To find him and reveal her feelings to him. When she heard your speech about finding love. Thank you.”

They sat still in silence facing each other. It had become evident to each of them that it hadn’t fucking passed.

The Priest suddenly started shifting around more in his seat, and started, “I wasn’t sure where the conversation of the night would take us, but I feel right now it makes sense to ask. We just talked about when we each began to love each other. What about when we stopped?”

She looked up at him with searching eyes, and slowly shook her head. “It won’t.”

A flush appeared on his cheeks. “Okay, I’m going to say it fast so you don’t have a chance to interrupt me this time: I love you. Love you still, love you more than anyone I’ve ever loved.”

He was going to kiss her this time too, not miss the chance like last time at the bus stop. He turned toward her and studied her eyes. He delicately pushed her hair back from her face, leaned forward, and gave her a tender kiss. He pulled away and lingered inches from her face. Their eyes studied one another. Like in the confessional. But he didn’t feel doubt this time. He knew. She leaned forward and kissed him, and he began kissing her fervently back. They started kissing repeatedly, arms starting to flail as they reached in desperation for each other, their bodies searching for one another after months forced apart. They stood up, hands groping under one another’s clothes as their mouths stayed connected. He pushed her to the wall at the end of the row, away from all the seats. As he pulled away to start kissing hungrily at her neck, she put her head back and moaned. She managed to whisper hoarsely, “We should probably go back to mine…”

“Yeah,” he agreed, looking around, and then paused a half second to look at her. But the pull was too much. They immediately jumped back together, their tongues passionately searching each other’s mouths, the movements wet with desire. She started pulling off his sweatshirt, and he eagerly shook it off to help her. They tore at each other’s shirts, lifting them off and throwing them to the side. She flipped him against the wall, and began running her hands into his trousers, then fumbled at the belt and zipper. He gasped with pleasure at the brief sensation of her hands brushing against his cock, and, wanting to maintain the close contact, he grabbed at the door handle behind him and to the left, and opened it. The force of their movements took them through the open door and into a large storage closet with spare tables and cardboard boxes stacked against the walls. He began to run his hands up along the smooth curves of her sides and gradually up to her chest, slowing down as he caressed her tits. She moaned with pleasure and closed the door behind them. He reached behind her and unclasped her bra. He lowered his head and kissed her along her neck, working his way down as his kisses became more urgent, and his tongue flicked at her nipples. Her hands were fully down his pants now, and she began stroking his cock. He quickly unfastened her jeans and she helped to pull them down. He pushed her up against the wall, and his hand began searching the area between her thighs. She moaned at his touch, and reciprocated his yearning touches by gently sucking and nibbling at his neck. He inserted his finger inside her wetness, and she again quietly cried out. He then slid his hands along her thighs and back around to her arse, and suddenly lifted her up off her feet with her legs straddling him, and set her gently down on a table against the wall. She pulled him toward her, not wanting to lose her grasp with her arms or legs. She had already waited too long for this moment. They needed to explode into flames together. He inched his hips forward and entered her, and they both momentarily shuddered with pleasure. They began slowly thrusting, their mouths connected the entire time, the electricity of their bodies’ movements taking them to the precipice of climax that they eagerly surrendered to. They cried out in pleasure, breathlessly sighing each other’s names as their worlds became each other and their orgasms consumed them. They stood, still in an embrace, for minutes after, not wanting to take eyes or hands off each other, trying to hold on, not wanting to lose this this time.

After a few minutes of tender kisses, they began to put their clothes back on, still watching each other silently, still not wanting to break eye contact.

They sat leaning side by side against a wall of the closet, arms and legs intertwined, fingers stroking one another’s hands.

They remained in silence, savouring one another’s company.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he said to her, tenderly.

“I know,” she replied, smiling. “That was so much better than just a photo of you!” she quipped.

She continued. “I want to say something serious. I think we’ve proven we can’t stay apart because it will fucking destroy us again, but I also don’t want you to leave the priesthood for me. That’s too much.”

“I wouldn’t be leaving the priesthood for you. I would be leaving it for me…And, I have already decided to leave it.”

She bolted upright. “What?!?”

“Yes, just last week-I put in my notice of resignation and have already begun the process of my exit. I was going to call you once it was all finalized to tell you. So I could tell you my feelings for you, without having the burden of you feeling you were forcing me to leave the priesthood placed on you, since it would already be done with. Regardless of your decision, the priesthood is not my path anymore.”

“But I thought your life…”

“My life…when I found the priesthood, it was the right thing for my life and who I was then…but it’s not the right thing anymore. Love is what’s right now, your love is what’s made me whole. It’s God’s plan for me, and He is love, after all. I’ve been a bloody mess ever since the night at that bus stop, not to mention the foxes outside my bedroom ALL NIGHT LONG.”

She looked at him, tears streaming down her face. “I fucking love you.”

He looked back at her, hand intertwined in hers. “I fucking love you too.”

They caught a cab back to her flat. He noticed that the foxes that had been lurking outside of the Quaker meeting hall when he first arrived had gone.

At her flat, they lay on her bed, chatting even more into the early hours of the morning. There was a lull in the conversation and he began to close his eyes to drift off to sleep.

“Fuck you, then.” she said, smiling.

He opened his eyes, “fuck you too, then.” He kissed her on the lips, then they both laid back into peaceful slumber.


End file.
